Euphoria
by jarveline719
Summary: If she really was the one that mattered most, why did he pretend like she wasn't? Post-Reichenbach, Post-Wedding. Mary heavily pregnant. Some s3 spoilers. This is my first fanfiction, I hope you like it, reviews are much appreciated!
1. Chapter 1- The Detective

The gloomy, muted shade of the afternoon was fading into deeper, evening greys as the sun was setting. The rain was finally relenting its battery of the tiny, institutional windows of the morgue and the sounds of urban business as usual were returning as London realized the storm was lessening. Sirens blared in the distance, cars honked at each other on the slick black roads, doors opened and closed and shoes began squeaking down the hallway towards the laboratory. Detective Inspector Lestrade enters with a serious look on his face.

Sherlock remains laying on the floor, using his coat as a pillow, staring at the fluorescent light above him. An open laptop sits by his right arm, which he closes and pushes under the table beside him.

"Sherlock, we need you now. I got you a cab, it's waiting for you on the street. Murder-suicide, happened about an hour ago. Anderson and Donovan are on the crime scene now but we're not sure what's going on."

"I'm busy."

Lestrade walks through the lab and stands over Sherlock, who stares blankly past him. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Every 11 seconds precisely, the lights all falter slightly, not enough to notice unless you stare at them for a few minutes, which I have. Molly said she called an electrician and I expected him to arrive here approximately 5 hours ago assuming he was on time, two hours ago were he behind schedule."

"Sherlock, you're not seri-"

"As to why I have been waiting here, I had to be sure he wouldn't touch anything important."

Lestrade takes off his jacket and places it on the table. "Five hours?"

"Yes, yes, five hours. John is at home with Mary, she's been put on bed rest and he wants to 'be with her'. Marriage, it's… Odd. Two overly sentimental beings sewing themselves together for what they believe will be the rest of their lives but will likely end with affairs and abandonment. Anyway, Molly is here, though she did fail to retrieve me my mobile, it was ringing earlier but I left it on the counter above me. If I am not mistaken, and I hardly am, it is still there."

Lestrade looks around and sees Molly's lab coat hanging on the coat rack by the door, next to Sherlock's scarf.

"Sherlock, I don't think she's here…"

"Oh, damn you."

Sherlock pulls up his sleeves to reveal a number of nicotine patches, which he pulls off and throws onto the floor behind him. He rises slowly, massaging his temples upon reaching an upright position. Making eye contact with Lestrade for the first time, he seems slightly puzzled.

"Why on earth are you wet, Lestrade?"

"It's been raining, Sherlock. Since noon."

"I didn't notice. Or care, I don't understand why you concern yourself with things as unimportant as the weather. Unless, of course, the weather has anything to do with that murder-suicide you were so blandly talking about a few moments ago. Now, given the fact that Molly isn't here, would you kindly retrieve me my mobile?"

"You can bloody well get it yourself, Sherlock!"

"Just hand me my mobile, Lestrade."

Lestrade lets out a grunt of frustration and reaches for the phone on the counter directly in front of the both of them and sets it in Sherlock's open hand less than gently. Sherlock presses a few buttons and reaches his voicemail.

The mobile begins to play back a raspy, cockney voice.

'Ello, it's Stan, the electrician. I'm 'fraid I won't be able to come, seeing as the rain's coming down 'ard today. If you could ring me b'fore the morrow we could set us up another time. My 'pologies, Mr. Holmes, good day t'ya.'

Sherlock maintains a stoic expression in spite of the intense frustration within. He deletes the message, sets the phone back on the counter, and begins massaging his temples again.

Lestrade, however, audibly laughs at Sherlock and speaks out in ridicule.

"You've got to be kidding me! All bloody day and you've been waiting here for nothing! Look, I'm going down to the taxi, and you're coming with me. You obviously have nothing to do."

"I am busy, George."

"GREG," Lestrade corrects.

"Greg, George, Gina, whatever, I am busy."

"With what, Sherlock?"

Sherlock hesitates. "I…"

"Fine, do what you like. Crime of the year, they're calling this one. Man pushed from a 5th story window, woman shot herself in the head… But don't mind that, I'll just leave you to whatever you're doing."

Sherlock lays back down on the floor, closes his eyes, and crosses his hands over his chest. Lestrade, furious with Sherlock, picks his coat up and heads towards the door.

"Oh, Lestrade? One more thing?"

"What the hell do you want Sherlock?!"

"Could you kindly hand me my mobile?"

Lestrade marches across the lab, picks up Sherlock's phone, and throws it at the wall, shattering its screen and sending its battery flying.

"Get it yourself, Sherlock," declares Lestrade as he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sherlock reaches for the nicotine patches on the floor around him, replacing them on his forearms. He pulls the laptop back out, opens the lid, and presses play on his screen. The muted surveillance footage of the lab begins running, and Molly is in view, looking through a microscope, writing things down, walking across the room. Sherlock and John enter on the video, but he accelerates the tape until Molly is alone again, watches her carry on for a while, then sighs.

"Lestrade, what do emotionally burdened humans do when they fall in love?"

There was no answer.


	2. Chapter 2- The Pathologist

It was around 6:00. Molly Hooper had just settled down in her flat after returning from the market when her phone buzzed, a brief chime alerting her of an incoming message. Her cat mewed inquisitively at the sound, jumping onto Molly's lap as she sat on her couch.

**Just got back from the lab. Sherlock is covered in nicotine patches and acting more odd than usual. Would you mind going over there just to make sure he hasn't lost the bit of sanity he possesses? – G. Lestrade**

Molly sighs. "Looks like I'm going to have to go and talk some sense into Sherlock again, Toby. Would you like to come too?"

Toby purrs and brushes his face against her hand, but when she goes to pet him, he leaps from her lap and heads towards the kitchen.

"You know, you're just like him, aren't you? Always making me think maybe you would want something more, then running in the opposite direction." She takes her hair out of the rain-dampened ponytail, brushes her fingers through it, and begins to braid it over her right shoulder.

Toby, suddenly interested, bounds towards her, leaps up onto the cushion and sits at her side, pawing at the strands of her hair dangling above him, snagging her thumb as she replaced the hair tie at the end of her braid.

"Now what have you done that for, you terrible thing!" Toby meows innocently, and Molly gives him an affectionate rub behind his ears. She then proceeds to respond to the message she received.

**I'll see what I can do. – Molly xx**

…

The door to the laboratory once again creaks open, and Molly casually walks in, grabbing her lab coat off of the rack beside the door on her way in and hanging her purse in its place.

"Sherlock?" She calls out.

Sherlock slams the laptop shut.

"Ah, Molly, there you are, I didn't notice you leave earlier." His voice appeared to be coming from somewhere in the room, though Molly couldn't see him. "Would you kindly do me the courtesy of retrieving me my mobile?"

"Where is it?"

"Lestrade threw it at the wall over there," he says, gesturing to the wall to Molly's left by waving his hand, barely visible over the table tops.

Molly walks over and spots a battery on the floor. She sees the phone about ten feet further, the back nearly in the corner of the room. She gathers the pieces, reassembles the device, and powers it on as she saunters towards Sherlock.

He stands to meet her, though he keeps his distance, afraid to touch her. Their hands meet as Molly hands the mobile to him, causing Molly to jump slightly.

"Why have you come?" Sherlock asks, scrolling through his mobile, then pocketing it.

"Greg texted me a few minutes ago."

"Typical of him, passive aggressive, furthered by projection. Do be careful not to fall victim to his whims, Molly. He only sent you here because he's upset that I didn't take his case."

"Bollocks, Sherlock! He cares about you. …I care about you." Molly blushes slightly as she says this. "Hold out your arms," she orders. Sherlock rolls up his sleeves.

Molly sighs and begins peeling the patches off one by one. She notices the lights still flicking. "The electrician didn't come, I take it."

"No, no," Sherlock remarks absently. "Having a night in?" he inquires as Molly peels the last sticker from his left forearm.

"Sherlock, how do you-"

"Don't answer, Molly. You haven't bothered to retouch the makeup you had on earlier, it's faded and slightly smudged around your eyes, I expect you intended to be removing it soon. The scratch on your thumb is clearly from an animal, a knife or any other tool in the lab would cut cleaner than that, and judging by the wet streaks in your braid, you were out this afternoon, absent from the lab between the hours of noon and five, I arrived at 11 and we were here together for a while, I would assume you left around two, but that cut is too fresh to have happened this morning."

"You are really just unbelievable sometimes". Molly turns bright red, as Sherlock stares her in the face. "Does it really matter what I'm doing tonight, Sherlock? Why do you care?"

"Lestrade asked me about a case earlier, murder-suicide. John is at home with Mary, and I was wondering if you would care to join me again to investigate."

Molly opens her mouth as if to speak, but draws a blank, the butterflies taking over. She flashes back to the last time she accompanied him on a case, he kissed her cheek and told her that she was the one that mattered most… oh, why hadn't she kissed him then? That idiot Tom cheated on her, she was trying so hard to move on, but she knew she still loved Sherlock Holmes and didn't know if she could ever stop.

"Molly, you're staring at me."

"Oh," she suddenly says, "yes, um… Sorry. It's just, I…" She clears her throat. "I thought last time would be a one-time thing. I didn't expect to do it again."

Sherlock thinks for a moment. "Would you like to discuss it over dinner?"

"Dinner?" Molly turns a deeper shade of red, her palms beginning to sweat.

"Yes, Molly, the third meal of the day, an evening ritual, restaurants, food, waiters, people, discussion, would you like to talk about the case over dinner?" He reaches down beside him to pick up his coat and puts it on, still maintaining eye contact with her the whole time.

"Sherlock, are you asking me out on a date? A real, proper date?"

Sherlock looks at Molly, his emotions reserved as usual, his eyes a crystal blue. "Meet me at the sandwich shop at 8." He touches her cheek and leans in, planting one gentle kiss on it. He turns around and walks out, grabbing his scarf from the rack as he exits through the door, trench coat trailing behind him like a cape.

Molly raises a hand to her cheek, touching the place where Sherlock's warm lips had just met her skin. _The one who mattered most_, she thought. Was it really true?


	3. Chapter 3- The Virgin

The rain was picking up again, blurring the lights of the cars passing on Baker Street. Sherlock stood under the awning of the sandwich shop beside 221B, leaning on the handle of his black umbrella, which was open.

A cab pulls up and Molly climbs out the side. Sherlock hurries to her side, sheltering her and walking her towards the door of the shop. His hand rests on her shoulder, his arm against the back of her neck. Molly trips as they enter the shop, falling against Sherlock.

"Oh dear, I'm… I'm sorry, Sherlock, I…"

"Don't mind that, Molly." Sherlock helps her back onto her own feet and lays the umbrella against the wall by the door.

Molly gently smiles at him in gratitude, looking into his intensely blue eyes. Sherlock analyzes Molly's appearance, only to find that he can't gather anything from the green dress she was wearing and how it hugged her body in such a way that was unbelievably attractive, or from how she took the braid out of her long, chestnut hair, leaving it wavy and full... Was focus always this hard for him when his heart was racing? Did this happen to other people when they were around humans they were attracted to?

After a few moments, Sherlock discovered he had been staring at Molly's deep brown eyes the whole time, and that she had been staring back. This sent a chill down his spine and he turned on his heels towards the table in the back corner of the little shop.

Molly sat herself down across from Sherlock, setting her bag in her lap.

"Would you like me to get you anything, Molly?" Sherlock asks, his voice quiet and reserved, a change from his normal, confident tone.

"Um, just water, if you don't mind."

"Oh, I don't mind at all," Sherlock says, smiling as he gets up to go to the counter.

He comes back with two glasses, one with water, one empty. He sits the full glass in front of Molly and sets the empty one on the table in front of him. He sits and watches her take sips from her glass.

Molly, noticing him watching her, she sets her glass down and gently brushes her hair from her face. _I hope I'm not making a fool of myself_, she thinks.

Suddenly, her phone vibrates.

**Any luck? –G. Lestrade**

As Molly takes her phone out of her purse, Sherlock grabs it from her hand and puts it in his empty glass. Molly almost has a heart attack, but then realizes that his glass was empty. Sherlock takes his own phone out and begins typing.

**Molly is busy, Lestrade. –SH**

He smiles at Molly and begins to put his phone away, but it

**Where are you? –G. Lestrade**

Sherlock rolls his eyes

**If you're at St. Barts, we left nearly two hours ago, having dinner now. However, I have decided to accept your case, under the condition that Molly works with me in place of John. –SH**

He sets the phone down on the table, and Molly takes another few sips of water. He watches her intently, looking at the way her hand gripped the glass, noticing her unevenly filed nails. Did she try to even them out quickly before she came? Did she break a nail and unfocusedly file to match the length? What did it matter? Her hands looked soft.

She sets her glass down slightly abruptly as to get Sherlock's attention. She opens her mouth as if to speak. He looks her in the eyes, his smoldering gaze causing her to forget what she was about to say. They stare at each other for another few moments.

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asks Molly, breaking their silence.

Molly looks down, at her glass, breaking their gaze. "I was actually about to say, I…"

"I'm not hungry," he says absently.

"I ate a bit before I came, I… I didn't want to eat too much here, but I am kind of hungry, but, if you don't want to stay here, you can-"

"Let's leave." He grabs their phones and puts them in his coat pocket.

"Sherlock, I…"

"Grab your purse," Sherlock says, and lifts Molly in the air, carrying her out the door into the pouring rain. He sets her down and she stands, getting soaked as he opens up the door to 221B. He opens the door, grabs her hand, and pulls her towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist as they stand in the doorway, just barely sheltered from the weather.

Molly, surprised at their proximity, drops her purse and gasps slightly, but her mouth is closed by Sherlock's as he presses his warm lips into hers. She kisses him back, letting it deepen. She never realized Sherlock would be so great at kissing, otherwise she would have tried it so much sooner.

Sherlock runs his hand up her back and runs his fingers through her hair. He couldn't believe the immense amount of emotion within him… Maybe ignoring emotions wasn't the best thing for him anymore. Maybe if he could just feel this love, just this once…

_What are we doing_, Molly thinks, and she pulls away from Sherlock. He stares at her for a moment, his electric blue eyes wide and his eyebrows raised. Molly pulls the door closed.

"I guess I could help you with the case," she says.

"Good, because I already told Lestrade you would be accompanying me". He smiles at her and kisses her forehead.

Sherlock throws his phone at the wall, lifts Molly up again, and carries her up the stairs, setting her on the client sofa. He walks over to the kitchen and grabs a bottle of red wine, pouring two glasses. He delivers one to Molly and drinks the other himself, sitting next to her on the couch.

"Molly Hooper," Sherlock says. "You always mattered to me… I never knew how to tell you. I never expected anyone to put up with me, but I have John, and I have you. I never thought I would have a best friend, and I certainly didn't think I could ever fall in love, but I was wrong."

His smile as he said these words was so genuine. Molly had only seen Sherlock emote this way once before; at John's wedding. Molly opens her mouth and says "I love you, Sherlock."

Before he can reply, Lestrade comes bounding up the stairs. He looks at Molly for a moment, raising his eyebrows, then rolling his eyes and approaching Sherlock, who stands.

"Sherlock," Lestrade says, "it's urgent, you're needed at the Halkin. The cab is waiting, will you come this time?"

He looks at Molly, and she smiles and stands up.

"Give us half an hour," Sherlock says, taking Molly's hand and leading her towards his room.

"Well. Guess I'll be off then... Come whenever you're ready..." Lestrade wanders down the stairs, confused about what he just witnessed.


End file.
